


light our way

by dogeared



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Comfort and Joy, Dates, Established Relationship, M/M, kissing on the couch, post-2x20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 18:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13218792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogeared/pseuds/dogeared
Summary: They separate long enough for Alec to take Magnus apart carefully like he’s unwrapping a gift—unwinding Magnus’s scarf and unbuttoning his shirt and unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.





	light our way

Magnus starts awake. His heart’s thumping hard, and it takes a few seconds for him to orient himself—to remember that he’s in his own loft, in his own bed, duvet draped around his shoulders, and he’s tucked up close against Alec. Everything’s familiar, and finally, it’s starting to feel like home again.

In the days since Valentine and everything else that came after, it seemed supremely unfair that, even in the few stolen moments of calm and peace, the simplest pleasures were somehow out of reach, and Magnus felt _wrong_ , inside and out. There was a terrible itch under his skin to run away, to just scrap the whole lair and start over somewhere new.

Next to him, Alec inhales sharply, and it’s almost a relief when Magnus realizes that it was Alec’s nightmare that woke him, and not the unwelcome return of his own anxious unease. Magnus squeezes his arm reassuringly, chafes his palm over Alec’s shoulder, and Alec groans and pushes himself up. He roughly scrubs his face and huffs out a laugh, embarrassed. “Sorry. I was— I couldn’t find anyone, I couldn’t find _you_.” He turns to look at Magnus. “Did I wake you up?”

“Dearheart,” Magnus murmurs, and he sits up too so that he can cup Alec’s cheeks in his hands, smooth his thumbs over Alec’s eyebrows and rub the spot in between them. Alec shudders and slumps into Magnus, and Magnus hugs him, holds him tight, and it does him some good to feel like he’s the one who can offer comfort and safety again.

* * *

The next time they have a free evening together, no demands of Institute or Downworld, Alec takes him out to one of their favorite neighborhood places for dinner. It’s frigid outside, so cold that there are dire warnings about wind chill and exposure, and Magnus offers to portal them somewhere warmer. But Alec just takes the ends of Magnus’s scarf and winds them around his neck a few more times, then whisks him along until they’re ensconced in a secluded corner and drinking cocktails that rival Magnus’s. They eat falafel and pickled cauliflower and pita and hummus, and when the kitchen sends out extra dishes to their table, on the house, Alec rolls his eyes good-naturedly, sure that it’s because the chef has a crush on Magnus.

“What can I say?” Magnus teases, and Alec scowls and spears a crispy potato. Magnus pointedly eats one more delicately, licking his lips when the spicy sauce makes them tingle. When he stifles a moan at the first bite of a dessert concoction of honey and sesame, Alec throws money on the table and hustles them back out into the cold, stumbling and laughing all the way back to the loft and collapsing on the nearest cushioned surface when they get there.

“Magnus,” Alec says, and his cheeks are pink from the cold or the alcohol, and he’s watching Magnus, his eyes big and full of intent. He’s already very much in Magnus’s space, so it doesn’t take much for him to lean in for a kiss. It’s a slow, soft, deep thing, and Alec tastes like honey and spice, and Magnus feels himself sinking deeper and deeper into the upholstery. Alec encourages him, guiding Magnus between kisses, until he’s stretched out along the full length of the couch, and Alec has somehow slipped down to kneel on the floor beside him.

“Are you seducing me or putting me to bed, Alexander?”

“We’ll see,” Alec says, looking pleased with himself. “I like this couch. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the redecorating.” It’s true—Magnus acquired it when he thought that a new look might help to him settle back into the space again.

“You could come back up here and join me on it, you know,” Magnus says, and Alec hums something noncommittal before he leans down, bracketing Magnus’s head with his forearms and kissing him quiet. It all feels very . . . safe, a private haven for just the two of them where the outside world can’t intrude. Alec teases his thumbs against Magnus’s hairline, his forehead, his ears, gently tracing the shape of his ear cuff, his kisses wet and sweet. Magnus snaps his fingers, and Alec makes an approving noise, sinking his fingers into Magnus’s hair, now soft and free of product, while Magnus basks in the shivery feeling and runs his hands over Alec’s arms, his biceps and shoulders, and lets himself feel protected. 

They separate long enough for Alec to take Magnus apart carefully like he’s unwrapping a gift—unwinding Magnus’s scarf and unbuttoning his shirt and unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. Each touch is slow and deliberate, grounding, and when Alec finally wraps his hand around Magnus’s length, his grip is warm and sure. 

“You’re going make a mess,” Magnus manages to get out, coasting on sensation. 

“I thought you loved a dirty lair. Besides, I hear you have magic for that,” Alec says. And he twists his hand and places a tender, open-mouthed kiss against the hollow of Magnus’s throat, and Magnus groans and lets himself go. 

He does make a mess, and then Alec has the temerity to lick his own wrist bone clean, and Magnus needs him closer now, now, now. He tugs at any part of Alec he can reach, catches his belt loop, his hip, braces himself against the back of the couch and hauls Alec up next to him.

“I’m going to fall off,” Alec gusts out, but Magnus isn’t going to let him. Magnus isn’t letting him go anywhere. He hooks one arm around Alec’s shoulders and shoves his other hand artlessly down Alec’s pants, and Alec sucks in a harsh breath and bucks up against him, and when Magnus says, “Come on, darling,” Alec goes still, and then hot and shuddering. 

Alec slumps against him, a warm, drowsy, comfortable weight. Magnus helps them both out with a little magical clean-up, and he runs a hand through Alec’s sweaty hair. In the dim quiet, the loft feels cozy and welcoming—he doesn’t remember sparking candles to life, but they’re glowing gently all the same. Outside, the city is winter-gray and glittering. “Love you,” Alec says, soft like breathing. He reaches for Magnus’s hand and tangles their fingers together, and Magnus can’t imagine anywhere he’d rather be.


End file.
